


Don’t speak

by waywardbaby



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Marriage Proposal, Panic Attacks, Second Guessing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29462169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardbaby/pseuds/waywardbaby
Summary: You know what the right decision is and you make it.What will come out of it, though?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Don’t speak

**Author's Note:**

> The part italicized is a flashback.

* * *

* * *

You’re happy.

Tomorrow is your wedding day.

That means that you have to be happy.

Right?

Every last detail has been taken care of with the help of a wedding planner that had been practically living up your ass and of your best friend Lisa who was your go to person when things got a little too much for you to handle.

Lisa was the one who would scream at the florist when the flowers weren’t the exact shade of lilac.

She was the one who had told the wedding planner to take the stick out of her ass and just do what the fuck she had been asked to do and not second guess your decisions.

She had been willing to deal with all the wedding shit since the day you told her that Nick had proposed.

You can still remember sitting her down on the very bed you’re plopped on right now and telling her how Nick had taken you out to a romantic dinner, got down on one knee and asked you to marry him.

How all that looked and sounded like a fairy tale and how he did indeed resemble Prince Charming in almost every aspect.

He was handsome, very much so, successful and although he wasn’t rich, he lived comfortably. He had also been completely straightforward with you since the beginning, confessing his love to you and his intention of one day marrying you. You had been flattered and happy but deep inside there was something holding you back from agreeing to his plans or sharing the profound joy that flooded his words.

Someone was holding you back.

And Lisa, being the closest and only thing you had as family knew what or better yet who that was.

So, when you told her about the proposal, she had looked at you dead in the eye and assured you that if you wanted to go through with this, she would be on your corner. But she had also told you that you had to be absolutely certain that your past was behind you where it belonged and that you should under no circumstances hurt a good guy like Nick if you were even one percent unsure of your feelings.

You knew she was right.

You knew that Nick deserved the world.

But deep inside you also knew that you could never love him completely.

You made the selfish choice because you were tired of being alone.

Of having no one to care for.

No one to care for you.

You pushed aside Lisa’s words and accepted his wedding ring. You pushed aside her advice and said yes to Nick.

She knew why you had agreed but she didn’t want to make you question your choice more than you were already questioning it yourself.

All that brought you right where you are now.

Plopped on your bed, looking across the room at your wedding dress hanging on a satin hanger outside your closet.

It’s a simple, ivory, floor length satin gown with a draped neckline and thin straps. Small, white pearls are scattered on the dress, giving it a romantic look. Ivory sandals are waiting under it and your feet hurt just by looking you at them. High heels have never been your thing. You have actually started wearing them ever since you met Nick and still struggled with them. You would basically love to wear a pair of white biker boots that you had bought on a shopping spree with Lisa.

Wouldn’t that be a wonderful idea?

Wouldn’t that make everyone at the wedding wonder about Nick’s sanity in choosing a girl like you when there were a million other more ‘suitable’ matches for him?

That second thought helped you decide.

White biker boots it is then.

Getting off your bed, you make your way to the closet and brush your hand over the cool satin of your dress. Opening the door and flipping on the switch you walk inside the small space filled with clothes, shoes and accessories which you still haven’t packed so they could be shipped over to Nick’s house.

Kneeling down, you find the pair of boots you have been thinking of and taking them out, you get out of the small closet and place them underneath your dress, kicking the sandals to the side. You take a step back, fold your arms over your chest and look at the gown paired with the biker boots.

The more you are looking at the strange combination,the more you like it. Nodding your head to no one but yourself, you decided that the sandals would fit perfectly back in their shoe box and reaffirm in your head that the biker boots would be the ones carrying you down the aisle.

But there is still something missing. There is one little thing that is missing from your ensemble.

A pair of pearl earrings you have been keeping in an old box, somewhere behind all these clothes.

They are the only truly girly thing you own as they were passed on from your grandmother to your mother and then to you and they would match perfectly with the small pearls on your dress.

Why hadn’t you thought of them sooner?

Getting back in the wardrobe, you reach with your hand behind some folded sweaters for the old wooden jewelry box you remember stashing there a long time ago.

Feeling it with the tips of your fingers, you pull it out and carry it to the bed where you sit crossed legged and open it slowly, like you are afraid that something would pop out if it.

A scary Jack-in-a-box maybe.

You lift the top and there they are. Sitting comfortably in a red velvet box. You take the small box out of the jewelry case and twisting it around in your hand, you examine the earrings. For a strange reason, you lift the box close to your nose and inhale. It is insane but you could still smell your mom’s perfume on them. You sigh, realizing once again how much you miss her. Placing the box on your nightstand, you absentmindedly move the rest of the jewelry around in the case.

It isn’t expensive.

Most of it being faux trinkets and leather cuffs that you used to buy at fairs and flea markets.

But underneath all of them, right when you least expect it, that Jack did pop out of the box.

Scaring you.

A small, square photo is peeking at you. The kind you take at an instant booth.

And your breathing halts.

Your body tenses.

Your heart stops.

While your brain is screaming at you to shut the lid and shove the box back in the closet, your hand takes it out.

There he is. There you are.

Looking up at him with your arms around his shoulders. He is staring at the camera, his beautiful green eyes feeling as they are now staring into your soul.

Even now.

Even after all those years.

You remember taking this photo.

You had managed to convince him to visit a town’s fair after a hunt. You had lured him there under the pretense of pie and he had fallen right into your trap and so easily at that.

How you had actually managed to convince him to take that photo, though, was still a mystery to you. When the small slot had spat out the three pictures, you had cut them up, taking this one and handing him the remaining two which were almost identical.

That was the first time you had seen him so relaxed, so happy.

The first time you had felt your heart beat a little faster and a hell of a lot louder.

The first time he had kissed you.

Your relationship was intense, filled with love, possessiveness and fear for one another’s life. You managed to almost always resolve your difference of opinions on various subjects because no matter how stubborn he could be, you knew how to bend and shape him into finally admitting that you were right on most occasions.

The only time you didn’t manage to change his mind was that night after you had got injured.

Not seriously but a little more seriously than other times.

_“No, Y/N! Absolutely not and you can protest all you want. This time you will do exactly as I say. You will not come along to any more hunts and that’s it.”_

_He hit his hand on the kitchen table and the glasses sitting on top bounced, causing some drops of liquid to spill on the surface._

_“But, Dean…” you started, only to be met with his angry eyes._

_‘Don’t fight him on this. At least not now. Let him cool off.’ Your mind whispered. But your stubbornness had prevailed so you decided to go against reason and fight him on it._

_“You know? You can’t make that decision for me. I’m a grown woman and I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and I won’t have you telling me what I can or can’t do.” Your foot stomped on the floor and your arms were folded across your chest, nostrils flaring in rage._

_The way his eyes looked at you was absolutely terrifying. You felt them piercing through you, dark with anger. He was inhaling and exhaling fast, obviously trying to reign in his emotions. Covering the distance between you in two wide strides, he grabbed you by the shoulders and crashed you into his arms._

_Your head was buried in his chest, his heartbeat right under your ear, making you realize exactly how angry, how worried he really was._

_“Dean…” you started, your voice muffled against his chest. He loosened his grip just a little and you turned your head upwards. “Dean, you don’t get to decide what I can or can’t do. We’re in this together and you can’t keep treating me like I’m a little kid that needs babysitting.”_

_“Then stop acting like one!” He shouted and releasing you from his arms, ran his hand through his hair in complete and utter frustration. “Stop acting like a bratty, little kid and listen to me. Because this is not what I signed up for.”_

_The minute the worlds left his mouth, you saw that he had regretted them. But it was too late._

_You looked at him, gave him a bitter smile and passed by him without saying a word. “Y/N…” he shouted after you but you didn’t stop. You almost ran to your room and locked the door behind you._

_You didn’t open it when he kept banging against it._

_You didn’t open it when he apologized._

_You didn’t open it when you heard him sliding down and sitting outside your room for what seemed like hours._

_So, this was what he thought of you._

_Like you were a kid needing babysitting._

_Well, you hadn’t signed up for this either._

_Eventually, you heard him getting up and the sound of his boots echoed in the silence of the bunker as he was walking away from your room._

_That was the same night you had stuffed your belongings in your duffle bag, left the bunker and the only man you had ever loved behind._

Your eyes are misty with tears.

Damn your search for those earrings.

Damn the small picture that was hiding under all your trinkets, waiting to remind you that no matter how much you chose to ignore it, your heart still belonged to Dean.

It would always belong to him but there’s nothing that you could actually do about it. Nick is wonderful and you’re sure that you will learn to love him as time goes by.

You need to.

You place the small picture back in the box, cover it with the jewelry and shut the lid with such force that you think the whole thing would break. Shoving it back in the depths of your closet, you lay on your bed, close your eyes and pray that your dreams won’t be once again filled with green eyes.

The wedding ceremony was perfect.

The small chapel outside the city was beautifully decorated with delicate arrangements of lilacs and roses. You had come across this small, old church in one of your drives with Nick. There was something in the way it was illuminated under the setting sun that had made you turn to Nick and say that this was the place that you wanted to get married in.

With flowers, and candles and just a few friends and relatives. His mostly, because you only had Lisa. She was the only one you considered your family, your friend. He had smiled warmly at you and caressing your cheek had assured you that if that was what you wanted then that was what would happen.

On either side of the long aisle there were bouquets of flowers and big white candles, shedding their flickering light over the rows of seats occupied with about fifty or so people. The big chandeliers had their lights dimmed, making everything look eerie and soft.

The guests rose as you and Lisa entered and Nick turned around and looked at you. Lisa was the only choice for you when it came to who would give you away. She was holding your hand tight and before you started walking, she gave it a small squeeze. As both of you started walking, you raised your dress a little and gave Nick a small glimpse of your white biker boots. He tried to stifle a small laugh but ended up snorting so loudly that all the guests turned his way. You giggled too and let the dress fall over your inappropriate shoes again, covering them completely.

When you reached him, you winked at him and he just mouthed : “I adore you.”

You would give everything to be able to say it back to him.

After the ceremony was over, you all headed to the hotel where the reception would be held. Nick’s one condition was that if you were to have the wedding in the small chapel, you would have the reception in a fancy hotel. He still had a lot of relatives’ mouths to shut and you always felt a little sorry for him for having to deal with stupid things like those.

So, here you are, going around the small round tables filled with guests, your hand safely secured in Nick’s, accepting people’s wishes and warm smiles. You look up at Nick and see how happy he is, how proud to have you by his side as his bride. The love he has for you is clearly evident on his face by the way he smiles, by how tight he’s holding you, by how once in a while and bends and whispers in your ear how much he loves you.

And you know that you should be happy, blessed, lucky.

And you want to feel that way.

But right now, his hand in yours feels too tight, his smile can’t warm your heart and his words don’t register.

The music sounds too loud and the lights are too bright.

You feel like you are having a panic attack, so you are grateful that you have reached a table where a bunch of his best friends are sitting. He is talking to them, joking about something that you haven’t even heard and you just bend in his ear and whisper that you want to find Lisa about something and that you would be right back.

He kisses your cheek, tells you to hurry back and resumes his talk with his friends.

You make your way to the back of the wedding reception area and get out to the garden that surrounds the venue. Inhaling, you try to calm yourself down and you let the cool, summer breeze blow through your head, hoping it will clear it.

You start walking down a small path that winds and turns and little by little the music becomes more distant and the lights less bright. The narrow cobblestone is illuminated by lanterns, hanging from tall posts, like the ones someone could see in old movies and you keep walking without really paying attention to where you’re going.

Fear starts swelling inside you as the realization that you have probably made a huge mistake slowly sinks in.

Lisa’s words ring in your ears.

She had warned you of this.

She had told you to think about it hard before accepting his proposal.

And the more you think about it, the bigger asshole you feel.

So you keep walking, you keep bidding the loud voices in your head and the panic in your chest to stop.

You keep walking till you reach the wall that signifies that you are at the end of the property. It’s a brick wall covered by a thick, bushy plant with a million white blooms scattered on it, their delicate fragrance making you inhale deeply. One more of the old looking lanterns is shining down on a wooden bench and suddenly you feel so tired. Sitting down, you bury your head in your hands and you just want to scream. You want to curse yourself for being too selfish. Too careless.

You want to slap yourself for not listening to Lisa.

Just as you are about to let out that scream that is almost choking you, you hear that distinct screeching of the cobblestone that alerts you to the fact that someone is approaching.

Getting off your seat, you quickly take a deep breath to calm yourself as much as you can, mentally preparing in your head all the possible answers you will give to the person who is about to disturb you.

But nothing could have ever prepared you for this.

“Hi, Y/N.”

He is standing right there, in front of you.

Looking at you.

Talking to you.

Dean.

Blinking a few times, you try to figure out if he’s indeed here or if your clouded head is playing yet another trick on you.

He’s dressed in a simple grey button-down shirt and matching trousers. He’s so different from his usual image, with all the layers of plaid and jeans and thick boots.

The way he’s dressed indicates that he had probably been at the wedding and followed everyone at the ceremony.

Why?

How?

Is he even really here?

You start walking towards him, the need to touch him, to make sure he’s real, guiding your feet. When you’re standing right in front of him, you raise your hand and touch his cheek. You feel the stubble tickling your palm and the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch has your heart clenching in pain.

He’s older. Of course he’s older.

It’s been almost five years since that day when you closed the door of the bunker behind you.

You caress his cheek and your other hand touches his chest. You can feel his heart beating frantically, like that last night you were together.

You inhale.

You take in that same scent you always thought could never belong to anyone else. A combination of pine and just a hint of cinnamon. You could never understand why or how such combination could ever be possible but in our head, that scent was only his.

He opens his eyes and smiles at you. The crinkles on their sides are deeper now but the green in them is still the same vibrant emerald.

“Babygirl…?” He starts and his raspy voice sounds so loud.

He’s really here.

But there’s only one word that fills your head.

“Why?” You ask and only when you hear yourself, do you realize that you said it out loud.

Your hand drops from his face and you take a step back, needing now to put some distance between you.

“Why?” You repeat, louder this time. “Why, why, why?” You keep asking, louder and louder till you’re almost screaming. Turning your back to him, you suddenly feel so fucking exhausted and at the same time so enraged. Your head falls and you are afraid that you will start crying.

“Why?” You say once more but this time it’s just a whisper.

“Baby…”

You abruptly turn around, tears starting to roll down your cheeks and you raise your index finger at him in a gesture that shows he should not talk.

“Why did you come here, Dean? Why tonight? Why now? Did you wake up one morning and thought to yourself : ‘where could that little girl who needed babysitting be? Has she grown any? Has she stopped needling babysitting? Why don’t I track her down after all these years and just fuck her wedding day up?’”

You are shouting, frustration and anger making your words sound choked up.

Who has given him the right to show up here tonight of all nights and once again make your poorly buried feelings for him stare you in the face?

Who has given him permission to still have a hold over your heart?

Once again, you walk close to him and you slap him.

A hard, loud slap across his left cheek. His head turns a little at the impact but he doesn’t move.

He just keeps looking at you.

So you slap him again. And then one more time.

The fourth time you raise your arm, he catches it mid air and effortlessly lowers it. He keeps it pinned by your right side and his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him, almost crashing you into his chest.

Your breathing has accelerated, both by your anger but also by this close proximity of your bodies.

He starts walking, pushing you back till you reach the wall. You are now caged between the bricks and his chest.

“Look at me.” He says and it’s something between a plea and an order.

You do as you’re told, hating your body for responding to him so quickly. You wanna still shout at him, curse at him but the minute you open your mouth, his hand releases yours and his finger touches your lips.

“Don’t speak, baby. I know what you’re saying so you really should stop explaining to me. Just listen. When I woke up that day and found you were gone, I couldn’t really process it. I sat in my room for almost a week. Just sat there, with my handsin my head and cried.

Yes, baby.

Cried.

I realized exactly what I had done. All our memories played in my head over and over. And no matter how inviting they were, they were also very frightening.Because I saw that because you were gone, we couldn’t make more memories. I got so scared after you got hurt in that hunt. I got so scared that I was gonna lose you and I was the one that actually made you leave.”

He pauses for a second and taking a deep breath, looks deep in your eyes, trying to understand if any of the things he’s saying have registered.

You are confused but at the same time there’s a strange feeling of joy surging through your whole body, making your blood rush in your veins, making you almost hear your heart in your ears.

“I had to find you, babygirl.” He whispers, his lips hovering over yours. “I had to let you know. And I wish you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Forgive me for hurting you back then. Forgive me for taking so much time to find you. Forgive me for being such an idiot and let you walk out of my life.”

You almost melt in his arms.

You know you still love him. You know you had forgiven him the minute he said ‘hi’ to you a few minutes ago.

Your lips crash on his and you kiss him, hungrily. You need to make up for all those years in between. All those years that you have been apart. All those years you tried to hate him but failed.

You molded your body against his and he fisted his hand in your hair, keeping your mouth locked on his, devouring you, trying to quench the same thirst that is burning you up.

“Y/ N?! DEAN?!” Lisa’s voice startles both of you. Your heads simultaneously turn towards her direction and you both stare at her, unable to say anything.

To be honest, there’s nothing that either of you could say that would fix the situation you are in.

Lisa looks at you first, then at Dean and then at the way that he’s still holding you, flush against him.

“You good?” She asks but you both know that you are more than good.

Looking up at Dean you smile.

“I am.” You confirm.

“Are you gonna keep my girl safe?” She says, turning to Dean.

“Always.” He responds immediately.

He moves closer to both of you and raising her index finger to Dean, says in a menacing voice : “If you ever do anything to hurt her again, I’m gonna come after you. And believe me, you don’t want me coming after you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Understood” he says.

“Now, you go. I have a room full of people to explain what has happened to the bride.”


End file.
